Through the Smokes of My Decay

Through the smokes of my decay, among the people of the low, as one would say, did you see the wide eyed surprise ! Why is she walking down on the filth today? She is walking in the wind, bold wind makes her uneasy, like the filth beneath her feet. What is she thinking? Where is she going? Did she feel sudden sympathy, for the abhorred street? For whatever the reason maybe, I’d like to thank her a bit. I am left with my decay; She vanishes sweetly at the corner of the street. (30.06.2007)